


Fallen

by iamkathastrophe, Julii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Don't read if you don't like pain, Fallen Angel Castiel, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt, M/M, Pain, alternative universe, eventually comfort, just a lot of pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamkathastrophe/pseuds/iamkathastrophe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julii/pseuds/Julii
Summary: When Dean Winchester finally decides to get back in shape, the last thing he expects to find in a forest is an angel.





	1. THE JOG

**Author's Note:**

> It started as an innocent rp, and somehow turned into one of the best things we've ever written.  
> WARNING: It will contain pretty sad stuff later on (the I-cried-three-times-while-writing-this kind of sad). So feel warned.  
> Have fun reading! <3

Living with his brother at the age of thirty-five isn't such a normal thing, but Dean stopped minding a long time ago. He loves Sam, and since their parents died, they only have each other as a family, so it just seems natural to Dean to share an apartment with his younger brother. Over the week, they don't see each other much due to work, except for dinner or when they decide to have an evening for movies and beer, but weekends are always shared. As long as Dean doesn't want to go to the strip club on Saturday evening, that is. It's not a normal life, without kids or being married in their thirties, but Sam and Dean are happy. And that's all that counts.

            Although they are brothers and they are very close to each other, in certain aspects they are also as different from each other as it's possible. Dean, being a simple mechanic working at their father’s friend garage, going to strip clubs and living mostly off hamburgers and take-out, is nothing like his lawyer brother, waiting for three dates before asking for even a kiss and eating healthier than ninety percent of the population probably does. The last aspect is exactly why instead of sleeping until noon on Saturday, Dean is in his car at the sunrise, driving down the streets and out of the city.

            When Sam commented on Dean gaining weight, he just grumbled and told the younger brother to mind his own business. But even days after that, Dean caught himself looking at his stomach in the bathroom mirror while brushing his teeth. Sam was right. Dean got chubby. So now he is on his way to the nearby forest to go  _ jogging _ . Him. Jogging. Like some hippie.

            But the truth is, if he gains, even more, weight, he will both, stop liking how he looks and so will all the girls around him. Besides, Dean is already in his mid-thirties, his metabolism isn't as good as it used to be. And neither is his condition. That's why, starting this Saturday, Dean decides to take care of himself. Less junk food, more veggies, less beer, more water and definitely more work out.

            Dean already hates himself when he gets out of the car and begins to stretch.  _ You need to warm up properly _ , Sam said back home when he instructed Dean on how to do his workout right. Dean grunted something like "nerd," and Sam threw him a look that was anything but amused, and that was the end of their conversation.

            In this very moment, stretching by his car, Dean feels like an old man, his bones cracking and,  _ God _ , he really can't touch his toes. However, that's going to change. Maybe not soon, but eventually. At least he didn't let Sam convince him to wear some weird way-too-tight running clothes. No, a simple T-shirt and sweatpants will be enough.

            He starts to jog slowly through the woods along the forest path and thinks to himself that it was the right decision not to go running in the city. Not just because he doesn't want to get stared at when he begins to sweat and pant, but mainly because the surroundings within the forest are calming to his senses. Somewhere in the basement in one of the boxes Dean found his old walkman and with some new batteries, the thing is now playing his own Led Zeppelin mixtape with his favourite thirteen songs. Music definitely makes jogging easier.

            It doesn't take longer than two songs until Dean realizes in what a bad shape he is. It hasn't even been fifteen minutes and he already starts to sweat and pant like an asthmatic. He regrets he didn't take a bottle of water from his car, he could use some now.

            He lets another song go by before he desperately needs a break, so with his arms braced against his knees, he leans down and gasps for air. It's humiliating how weak he got, but at least no one is around to watch.

            With a lot of effort, he straightens his back and puts his hands on his hips, breathing coming in exhausted pants. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. If he's going to collapse here, there will be nobody to help him. And he sure does feel like he's going to faint.

            He decides to walk a few steps instead. It's better than nothing and he can start running again once he feels better. Even if jogging is the last thing he wants to do now. For some reason, he craves for a burger at some greasy diner, if it wasn't for his waistline.

            Dean knows for sure he doesn't want to gain even more weight. Some time ago his two hundred and ten pounds used to be muscle, but right now it's slowly turning into fat. It's not that bad yet, but he sure is growing some love handles. No, no burgers. He's going to have a healthy breakfast with Sam once he gets back.

            Just as Dean wants to start running again, he spots something within the trees. He isn't sure if he sees it right, but it seems to be big and... hairy? No, that's not fur, what Dean can see are big, black feathers, but never before has Dean heard of a bird that size. His eyes must be playing tricks on him, so he decides to get a closer look.

            Slowly, he makes his way off the path and in between the trees, stepping carefully, trying not to make a sound. As he gets closer, his gaze falls on something he isn't fully able to comprehend. There's a man lying on the mossy ground. He would look like every other person you pass on the street with his dark hair and an ugly tan trench coat. But then, there they are. Two, huge black wings growing  _ out of the man’s back _ .

            “Hello?” Dean calls out hesitantly. 

            There is no answer. He takes one more step forward, heart hammering in his chest. The man lying on the ground... should he even think of him as "man"? He looks more like an angel from all those old books Dean's and Sam's father used to show them. In any case, he doesn't respond. It seems like he’s unconscious.

            The more closely Dean looks, the more he realizes how fragile the man seems. He is clearly wounded, Dean notices, his wings covered in a sheen of blood and his clothes stained with red. He isn't dead, Dean can see him breathe, but maybe he is close. In any case, Dean can't let him lie here.

            He makes a decision in a split of a second, without giving it any further thought. He pulls the earphones out and steps beside the man, carefully avoiding his wings. He slides his arms below the unconscious and picks him up with effort. Although, it seems like he weights about the same as Dean, which is strange, given how enormous his wings are.

            Somehow, with a few breaks in between, Dean manages to carry him back to his car. What is he even supposed to do with this man? He can't exactly bring an  _ angel _ , or whatever he is, into a hospital. Maybe the guy doesn't even have insurance. But lying in this comatose state on the backseat of the Impala, getting blood everywhere, Dean knows the man needs shelter.

            Dean takes a moment to breathe because suddenly he feels like he's about to vomit. Damnit! He knew this whole jogging thing would be a bad idea!

            If he just stayed at home, he would have never had to find an unconscious man with  _ wings _ , never would have to make the choice what to do. But Dean gets himself inside the car and begins to drive. He will take the man home.

            But how? It's not like he can just waltz onto the streets and inside his block of flats carrying a bloody angel in his arms! Even if nobody notices him on the way home, what then? Thankfully, the security cameras in the building are currently broken, but what if one of the neighbours decides to take a stroll this early in the morning? Damnit! What about Sam?!

            Dean silently prays that no one is outside at seven on Saturday, and to his luck, he finds none of his neighbours when he drives into the garage. Now he only needs to get this man on the second floor somehow without anyone taking notice of them.

            Quickly, he makes up some excuse. In case if anyone notices, he can always just say that this... this angel is his drunk cousin and those things on his backs are just props. There are people who dress up as various characters, right? The only problem is, it's usually done by teenagers, not adult men in suits.

            God bless the elevator because Dean honestly doesn't know how he would transport the angel into the second floor if he had to push him up the stairs. It must be his lucky day because even in the corridors, there is no one.

            With shaking hands, Dean unlocks the doors to his and Sam's flat and walks in, slamming the door behind him. He takes a few faltering steps toward the couch and lies the man there, on his stomach not to hurt his wings. Once that's done, the real panic crashes through Dean's body. 

            Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. There's an angel in his flat. There's  _ an angel in his flat _ .

            "Dean?" Sam calls out from the bathroom and steps into the living room, a toothbrush in his mouth. "What-" the younger brother tries to ask, but then he spots the man on the couch and Dean's panicking state, and Sam's eyes grow big, the toothbrush freezing in motion between his teeth.

            Dean's wide eyes travel towards his brother. "Sammy," he breaths out. "I think I'm in trouble.”


	2. THE PANCAKES

For a long moment, Sam just stares, gaze flicking between his brother and the _ thing _ on their couch. He swallows the rest of his toothpaste, puts the toothbrush aside and wipes over his mouth as he slowly steps towards the man on their living room couch. "Who... what is that, Dean?" he asks with both eyebrows raised in question.

            "I, I, I don't know," stutters Dean with true terror in his eyes, hands traveling up to clench on his short hair. "I, I was jogging and I found him... it... him, and I didn't know what to do, so..."

            Sam looks like he's about to freak out, but he nervously licks his lips and places a careful hand on Dean's shoulder. "Okay, Dean, calm down. Take a deep breath, okay? We... we gonna figure this out, I get you a drink and then we think about it, okay? Okay? Breathe."

            Following his brother's advice, Dean takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. This can't be really happening. It can’t, it’s impossible.

            "Okay, you sit down here," Sam says and guides his brother into the armchair next to the couch. "I'll get you a drink, calm down, alright?"

"Make it double."

            A second later, Sam is gone into the kitchen and Dean bends forward in his seat to bury his face in his hands. This can't be happening. What was he even thinking, bringing a half-dead  _ something _ into their living room? But before Dean can overthink it too much, Sam is already back and hands him a glass of whiskey, so he throws his brother a thankful look as he accepts the drink and takes a huge sip. This is bad, God, this is bad.

            With a glass of his own in his hand, Sam walks toward the thing on their couch and squats down next to it in order to take a closer look. "Well, at least he's alive?" he tries with an uncertain glance in his brother's direction. "The wings... look kinda real."

            "They are real," Dean breathes out. "I, I checked in the car. They go straight to his back."

            Sam nods slowly and downs his drink all at once before he sets down the glass on the coffee table. Then he takes a few steps through the room, his hands wandering up to comb his hair mindlessly. "Okay, let's think about what we do with him," he proposes finally.

            Dean turns the, now empty, glass in his hands. "We should help him," he rasps. "I mean... he's hurt…”

            Sam bites his lips in contemplation. He doesn't seem too happy with the idea of leaving an injured man with wings in their living room. "Yeah, but... I'm not exactly a doctor for angels. I doubt anyone is. Who would we even call for that? A normal doctor? A vet? Both?"

            "Neither." Dean hides his face in his hands. "We can't call anyone. God. What have I done?"

            "Calm down, Dean," Sam sighs. "But we can't leave him like that. C'mon, we get him into the bathroom and clean him of the blood, check for injuries. We got a first aid kit."

            "Great, we'll be patching up an angel with a pack of band-aids." Dean stands up, stretches and takes a deep breath. He has to calm down. "Alright. Let's do it."

            Sam awkwardly maneuvers his arms under the angel to lift him up and throws a look over to Dean to tell him to take the man's lower half. "Ready? Let's get him up."

            Dean nods as he walks over to the couch and grabs the angel by the legs. "Ready."

            It’s not easy and Sam has to be careful not to bump into any corners, but somehow they manage to get the man - angel? - into their bathroom after Sam opens the door with his elbow. They place him down in the bathtub, for now. "Okay, help me undress him," Sam says when he searches for their first aid kit.

            "Undress him?" Dean asks doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. "How? He's got fucking  _ wings _ ! We gotta cut his shirt."

            "How did he even get into these clothes? Someone tailored them right to his body?" Sam asks with raised brows as he hands Dean some scissors.

            Dean shrugs as he kneels next to the bathtub and begins to cut the man's shirt open. "Hell if I know," he mutters. "It's all fucked up, man."

            The injuries revealed under the shirt are far from pretty. It doesn't seem too bad since they aren't deep, but they bleed heavily. The man's skin is scraped open as if he slipped over some gravelly surface, and it definitely needs to be washed out. "I think we should get him out of his pants too, so we can wash all of the blood out and see if his legs are okay," Sam suggests.

            Slowly, Dean raises his hands in a defensive gesture. "Easy there, tiger," he utters. "How about we wake the dude up before it gets rapey? He… he can be dangerous."

            "You think we can wake him?" Sam asks with an arched eyebrow. "He didn't wake up when we carried him or when you got him here. But we gotta clean his injuries. Honestly, what do you wanna do if his wounds get infected? We can't get him to a doctor. C'mon, try to wake him, I don't know."

            Dean swallows. How is the supposed to wake up a fucking angel without being knocked out by his wings? He can't just shake him, can he? No, if that were to work, the angel would have wakened up as Dean was carrying him here. But... Dean reaches for the shower head. Cold water that is.

            When the first drops of water hit the angel, nothing happens, but in the matter of a heartbeat he suddenly jerks up, wide eyes as the water runs down on him and he makes a painful hiss when it meets his injuries. His wings flutter as tries to pulls himself up, clearly confused, eyes resting on the brothers.

            "Hey there, buddy," Dean breathes out when he turns off the water. "Can you understand me?"

            The angel says nothing, his gaze just flickering between Dean and Sam's faces. His wings fold on his back, pressing tightly against his back and the tube. He looks scared.

            "Hey, hey calm down," Sam murmurs, holding his hands defensively. "We're not gonna do anything to you."

            "I found you in the woods, buddy," Dean says. "What happened to you?"

            It takes another few seconds and twitches of massive wings before the angel in the bathtub slowly breaths out. He looks utterly confused and, frankly, Dean isn't surprised. At last, with deep husky voice, he says: "I fell."

            Dean slowly raises his brows, and if this man in front of him didn't have wings on his back, he would question his sanity. "You... fell?" he asks.

            "Yes."

            "You don't look like you just tripped over your feet," Dean replies. "What did you fall from? A cliff?"

            The man looks around the bathroom. "From Heaven."

            Dean and Sam exchange a look in panic. It's an actual angel. No. It can't be. "O... kay..." Sam utters slowly. "How about we take care of your injuries?"

            The wings twitch again. "No," the angel shifts in the tube, away from the brothers. "Don’t touch me."

            "Okay, alright." Sam nods and picks up the first aid kit to hold it in the angel's direction. "You know how to do it by yourself?"

            "I don't need it," the angel says.

            "Oi, no offense," Dean replies, "But you're covered in blood and wounds. You need it."

            The man shoots him a glare. "I'm an angel of the Lord, your human methods won't do me any good."

            "You could at least wash yourself," Dean grunts.

            "And who are you to give me orders?"

            "Great," Dean huffs. "Just great. Yeah sure, continue getting blood all over my apartment. I should've let you rot in that forest." 

            "Dean, breathe," Sam tries to calm his brother. "He might be in shock. You don't fall from Heaven every day."

            Something on the angel's face twitches as if he suddenly realized something. "Who are you?" he asks. "Where am I?"

            "I'm Dean, that's my little brother Sam," Dean grunts with a quick gesture in Sam's direction. "You're in our apartment because I found you in the woods."

            "Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?"

            Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in exhaustion. "We don't want nothing from you. I just couldn't leave a bleeding, unconscious guy in the middle of a forest."

            The angel tilts his head to the side, looking at Dean with confusion. If it wasn't for the blood, wings and general unpleasantness, maybe the gesture would have been adorable. Maybe. "You're a good person."            

            "Uhm... thanks?" Dean replies. "Can we get the blood off now? Please?"

            Slowly, the angel nods, but his wings remain close to his body, twitching from time to time.

            "You wanna do it by yourself?" Sam proposes. "We can leave the room if you know how the shower works."

            "You got a name, buddy?" Dean wants to know.

            "My name is Castiel."

            "Good, Castiel," Dean nods, "Can you wash yourself?"

            "I'm pretty certain I can."

            "Yeah? You know how a shower works?"

            Castiel gives a disapproving grunt. "I remember the dawn of time, I can handle showering."

            "Oi, Castiel, I'm not gonna question anything today, I found an angel in the woods," Dean huffs. "How would I know if an angel knows how to use a goddamn shower?"

            The angel's jaw clenches. "And I'm very grateful for your help. May I be left alone now?"

            Before Dean is able to give him a snarky reply, Sam has already grabbed his brother by the sleeve and pulls him outside. Once they're out of the bathroom, Dean looks up at his brother with big eyes. "We have a fucking angel in our bath."

            Sam takes a moment to breathe and collect himself. "Y-yeah," he gets out.

            "He sassed me!"

            "Yeah, can you believe that guy has the nerves to steal my job?"

            Dean snorts shortly, but for some reason, this sound is dry and rough, more of a dog bark than human laugh. "I'm hungry," he states. "We can worry about our angel friend once he's out of the bathroom. But for now… let's just pretend that everything is in order for a moment, alright?"

            "I'm with you on that," Sam agrees and points to the kitchen, an expectant look in his gaze. "Breakfast?"

            "I'd kill for some."

            Sam makes them some bacon and eggs, just because he knows the greasy food will help Dean calm down. They have an actual angel in their apartment, a healthy diet can wait. They sit down at the small kitchen table, busying themselves with breakfast. This time coffee or tea is off the table. They're washing down their bacon with whiskey.

            Sam just started washing up the dishes - cleaning up somehow calms his nerves, Dean can't understand it - when they hear the bathroom door open. Castiel is standing in the door frame of the bathroom, his hair slightly wet and a few stray droplets of water rolling down his toned body. Huge wings protruding from his back are wet and curled as if he was afraid something bad might happen to them. He's in nothing but a pair of white boxers, grabbing the door awkwardly. "I have nothing to wear," he informs. "My shirt is in pieces."

            Sam snaps his fingers in front of Dean's face to stop his brother from staring and walks over to Dean's bedroom. "We'll get you some of Dean's old shirts," he says while passing the angel.

            "Thank you, Sam," the angel says, his gaze following the younger Winchester to another room. Only as he turns slightly, Dean sees that Castiel still didn't dress his wounds, cuts and torn skin flashing bright red on tanned skin.

            "Hey wait," Dean says as he gets up from his place and rushes after them into his room. "You wanna cut wing holes into my stuff?"

            "There's no need for that," Castiel says calmly. There's a ruffle of feathers and shift of air and, suddenly, his wings are gone.

            "How... How the fuck did you do that?!" Dean exclaims, wide eyes staring at Castiel's back, where he had big, black wings just a moment ago.

            Castiel looks over at Dean, tilting his head again. "It's Enochian magic, Dean. I can fold my wings to the point they're invisible. It's uncomfortable, of course, but how else would the angels walk among humans without getting unnecessary attention?"

            "You ask me," Dean shrugs. "Didn't know you guys were real until now. So what, you gonna take a pile of my clothes and then you leave?"

            "Dean." Sam throws him a mean glare. "Where is he supposed to go? Castiel, you can stay, if you wanna, but I think we should dress your wounds before you cover Dean's clothes in blood."

            Only as Sam says that Castiel looks down at his wounded torso. "I forgot about it," he says, no emotions in his voice.

            "Doesn't that," Dean gestures over Castiel's body, "Hurt like hell? How could you forget to dress them?"

            "I don't perceive pain the same way humans do.”

            "Okay?" Sam arches an eyebrow as he lets his eyes wander Castiel's body. It is painful just to look at. "C'mon, we're getting you bandages. Dean can pick some clothes for you."

            Castiel just shrugs. "Very well then."

            Sam guides him back to the bathroom and Dean follows the two with his disapproving gaze as he stands next to his wardrobe. He can't believe Sam allowed that guy to live with them. Half the apartment is covered in blood by now and they are just taking in an injured angel like some stray puppy. Not that Sam never tried to get a stray puppy from the streets. But they can't keep an angel in their damn flat! The guy probably doesn't even have an ID or insurance. He probably doesn't exist in this world! How are they supposed to live with him? No, he's an angel. He probably won't stay for long anyway, as soon as he feels better he will fly away, to Heaven or somewhere, Dean doesn't care. But he sure as hell doesn't want Castiel here for longer than two weeks.

            After a few minutes, Sam and Castiel come back into the living room, the angel's chest covered with bandages. Dean lets his eyes wander over the angel's body and swallows before he reaches a bundle of clothes in Castiel's direction. It's one of his old band shirts, a pair of loose sweatpants and some underwear. For as long as the angel is staying, comfortable clothes are probably the best.

            "Thank you," says Castiel, looking down at the clothes he's been given. He nods at the brothers and walks back into the bathroom. At least he knows what privacy is.

            “Well, he’s okay now, I guess,” Sam mumbles as he looks after the angel.

            "Seems so. What we gonna do with him now?"

            "I... I guess I'm gonna get some bedding so he can sleep on the couch," Sam shrugs with a glance in the direction of the bathroom. "If he sleeps. He's an angel, I don't know."

            Dean runs a hand through his hair. "What, we have a domestic angel now? It's weird, man. He can't stay here."

            "I don't know, Dean... We can't throw him out, have you seen him? Imagine a hobo angel walking the streets, no thanks."

            Before Dean has a chance to reply, Castiel is already out of the bathroom, looking even more awkward in sweatpants and an old T-shirt.

            "You want to eat something, Castiel?" Sam asks and gives the angel a friendly smile. "I don't know exactly what angels eat, but we have lots of food."

            "I don't require..." Castiel cuts off as his stomach suddenly grumbles. He looks down with confusion painted over his features. "That's strange..." he mutters. "It must be the fall..."

            "C'mon, we get you something," Sam chuckles and takes a step towards the kitchen. Dean reluctantly walks with them, just to make sure Castiel doesn't eat his chocolate pudding. Castiel follows silently, Dean's eyes on his back. Without his wings, Castiel doesn't look like an angel at all. He looks like an average man in his thirties who hasn't shaved in a few days.

            Sam opens the kitchen cupboards and looks inside. "So what do you want? Something sweet? Something salty? Salad? Meat? What do angels eat anyways?"

            "We don't."

            Sam gives him an unsure look. "Not at all? Not even for the taste of it?"

            "Human food doesn't have any taste for angels unless it contains big amounts of saccharose." He looks at confused faces. "Sugar."

            "Maybe... it's different now?" Sam guesses. "If you're hungry, you need food. Want to start with something sweet? We still got chocolate pudding." Dean wants to grunt that it’s  _ his  _ pudding, but Sam throws him a glare. Apparently, some homeless angel guy is more important than his own brother, Dean thinks and huffs.

            "I don't know," says Castiel frankly, looking around the flat. "I shouldn't be here."

            Sam sighs and opens the fridge. "Come on, where do you wanna go? I make you some pancakes, that okay?"

            Castiel shrugs and sits down at one of the chairs in the kitchen. "I don't have anywhere to go."

            Sam takes out a bowl and some ingredients to mix the batter, his eyes directed at the angel sitting in their kitchen chair. Dean sits down next to Castiel, but he isn't fond of the situation in the slightest. 

            "I take some pancakes too," Dean grunts, answered by Sam's arched eyebrows.

            "We just had breakfast, Dean," Sam comments and turns on the oven's heat. "Wanna tell us something about you, Castiel? Why did you fall?"

            The angel looks at Dean in such a way as if he just forgot how to speak English. "I..." he stutters. "I don't know."

            "You... don't know?" Dean asks, but his expression shows how little trust he puts into Castiel's words. "It's okay if you don't wanna tell us, but at least don't lie. Just say it's private."

            “I don’t… I don’t remember,” Castiel mumbles and looks down to his hands, awkwardly twisting the hem of his shifting between his fingers.

            "Great," Dean grunts sarcastically. "They make you fall and don't even let you remember. Sounds amazing."

            The angel doesn't say anything, just glances down at his hands. Dean shakes his head. Whatever this whole situation is about, he's far from being able to comprehend.

            "How do you know someone made him fall, Dean?" Sam shrugs. "Maybe he wanted to fall if he doesn't remember. Or maybe it's a thing that angels do after some time. We have no clue what's going on upstairs. But honestly... I don't think I like the knowledge that Heaven actually exists..."

            "Why would I want to fall?" Castiel looks at Sam questioningly. "Why would angels fall "after some time"? I thought that from the two of you, you're the rational one, but as I can see, I was mistaken."

            Sam gives Castiel a strange look. "Seriously? We have no idea what Heaven or angels are like, up until this point we didn't know you guys actually existed. I'm just guessing here, that's not about being rational. How do you know you didn't want to fall, huh? You remember that part?"

            "Because this is not how falling works." Castiel rubs his face.

            "How does it work?" Sam asks. "Enlighten us."

            "It's not a human business."

            Sam sighs and Dean gives a disapproving grunt. "Alright, if you say so," Sam mumbles and gets a plate out of one of the drawers to hand Castiel his first pancake. "Check if you like it, we got syrup too if you want some."

            Castiel gazes at the food suspiciously as if it was some kind of a time bomb. Dean almost snorts. Not every day you see an angel not knowing what to do with a pancake. Sam hands him fork and knife and puts down a bottle of chocolate syrup next to him. 

            "You gotta put it in your mouth," he chuckles as he turns around to make the next pancake. If Castiel doesn't like it, Dean will want some, he's sure of it.

            The angel grabs the knife and fork and cuts off a piece of pancakes. He looks at it once more before stuffing it into his mouth. The next sound leaving his mouth very much doesn't sound angelic. Before Dean even knows it, Castiel's plate is empty. Sam gives him a self-satisfied grin and shoves the next pancake out of the pan onto Castiel's plate. "Tastes good?"

            "Oh, and you should try the syrup, seriously," Dean adds, popping the cap from the bottle of chocolate syrup.

            "Yes, please," groans the angel, letting Dean pour the syrup onto his pancake.

            "Oi, Sammy, make me some too," Dean orders, but Sam gives him an eye roll.

            "So much for your diet," he comments as he takes out a second plate.

            "You don't need a diet just yet," mumbles Castiel with his mouth full of pancakes. "You still have a healthy weight, but you're getting closer to overweight."

            Dean gives him the most unsure look. "I got no idea if I should take that as a compliment or insult."

            "I think Castiel is just stating facts," Sam says as he puts a pancake on Dean's plate.

            "I am. Your liver isn't in the best shape either."

            "How... How do you know that?" Dean wants to know, wide eyes directed at the angel while he pours syrup on his food.

            Castiel licks his lips and puts the knife and fork down. "I can feel it," he replies.

            "Can you do that to me too?" Sam asks. "Check if I'm healthy?"

            The angel squints his eyes. "Uh... I, I don't know."

            Sam puts some more batter into the pan. "What do you mean, you don't know? Is there something wrong with me?"

            "No, I'm sure not. I just... don't feel anything."

            "Well Sammy, looks like you don't got a soul," Dean jokes, but Sam gives him a worried look.

            "I... that means everything is okay with me, right? Right?" Sam utters a bit panicky.

            "I really don't know why I can't feel your body parameters," admits the angel, looking up at Sam. "I can only feel Dean's. But I can assure you, you have a soul; I can see it."

            Sam nods in visible relief. "So souls exist? Huh."

            "Of course they do."

            "Buddy," Dean puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder, "You gotta understand not everything that's normal to you is normal to us. We didn't grow up in Heaven with halo and harp like you."

            "I don't have a harp."

            "Naww, we can get you one," Dean jokes with a smirk

            Castiel looks at him with confusion. "I don't understand, why would I need one?"

            "Dean's just messing with you," Sam says and puts another pancake on Castiel's plate. "Okay, that's the last. Eat up."


	3. THE MOVIE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a friendly reminder that this ff used to be a role-play, that's why it has a lot of dialogue ;)

The rest of the day passes in a rather odd atmosphere, to say the least. Just a few hours ago Dean's biggest problem was putting on weight and making absolute sure Sam wouldn't get to the contents of his bottom drawer. But now, they have an angel, a real angel in their flat. After eating breakfast together, Sam got to his weekend chores, meaning cleaning their flat up. He knows all too well that if he wouldn’t do it, they'd live in filth. In the meantime, Dean devotes his time to explain to Castiel how the things are going to work.

            It's strange how quickly they adapted to the thought of having an angel with them. Or to the knowledge that angels even exist. Just some hours ago Dean thought he wouldn't want that guy around for more than a week, but now, after talking to him, he feels oddly okay with having Castiel sleeping on their couch for a lot longer. He spent so much time with Sam as his only companion, having someone new in their lives feels refreshing. While Sam is busy cleaning Castiel's blood from of the couch, Dean explains to the angel that both of them have jobs and if he is going to live with them, he will be alone during the week. Dean suggests Castiel could look for a job, but an angel working in some gas-n-sip sounds absurd even to Dean.

            Castiel stays quiet most of Dean's talk, occasionally nodding and commenting something shortly. At this point, they've already figured out that the angel isn't the talkative type, but that shouldn't be a problem.

            Sam makes them grilled cheese for lunch and Castiel looks disappointed at first because, apparently, he expected pancakes again, but then he takes a bite and makes a lewd sound of pleasure. It seems like you could give the angel anything to eat and he'd be content, probably because he wasn't able to taste for eons of his life. Sam takes it as a compliment to his cooking skills.

            As the evening approaches, it seems like Dean has covered everything in his conversations with Castiel. He doesn't seem to remember anything connected to his fall and he isn't too willing to talk about Heaven and for the Winchesters, it's more than okay. They still haven't completely wrapped their heads around the idea of Castiel being angel per se. They are just glad he keeps his wings folded. Otherwise, they might not adjust to his company so fast.

            Dean already forgot about it, but when the sun goes down, Sam suddenly asks: "Okay, what movie do we want tonight?" 

            Right. It's Saturday. And Saturday usually means movie night, as long as Dean isn't in some bar or strip club, but he won't leave his little brother alone with an angel today.

            "Uh, I dunno, man," Dean rasps from his armchairs, hand running through his hair. "Lord of the Rings marathon?"

            Sam just shrugs and throws an expectant look over to Castiel. "I thought more about Harry Potter. Do you wanna watch anything, Castiel?"

            The angel shifts in the other armchair. "I don't know. I've never watched any movie."

            "Guess they don't get Netflix in Heaven," Dean grunts, but then he gives Castiel an unsure expression. "Do they have Netflix in Heaven?"

            "Have what?"

            Dean sighs and wipes a hand over his face. "All right. Harry Potter is good to me, the first movie?"

            "I like the second the most," Sam replies.

            "Nah man, the second one sucked. And we can't start with the second, Castiel doesn't know them."

            The angel's gaze flickers between the faces of the two brothers. "What are you talking about?" he asks curiously.

            "It's a movie series," Sam explains and gestures with his hands. "Well, there are books too, but yeah, we wanna watch the movies. It's about a boy who learns that he's a wizard."

            "Uh… alright?"

            "If you're half as much a nerd as Sam is, you're gonna love them," Dean says and receives a glare and a punch in the side from his brother.

            "And that means we need the couch tonight, so you can't sleep early, sorry," Sam adds.

            "I'm an angel, I don't require sleep," mutters Castiel with a sour face. "I don't need the couch."

            "Great." Dean clasps his hands. "Harry Potter marathon then, because we're three twelve-year-old boys."

            "You are twelve, I'm at least fourteen," Sam laughs, but Castiel looks between them as if he didn't understand. The angel doesn't seem to have the best comprehension of humour.

            "It's a joke, buddy," says Dean patting the angel's shoulder. "Alright, we want snacks?"

            "I get some snacks, you start the movie," Sam chimes and rises to his feet. In a matter of moments, he is already in the kitchen.

            Castiel watches Dean as he stands up and walks over to the shelves where they keep their movies. "Is that what humans do when they have free time?”

            "Humans do lots of things in their free time, movies are just one of it," Dean shrugs as he searches the shelf for the DVD case. "What do angels do in their free time?"

            "We don't have free time."

            "Wow, that must suck. I'm gonna show you some stuff you can do when we are gone to work.”

            Castiel nods. "That sounds nice." He shifts. "But I don't want to bother you and your brother."

            "What's that supposed to mean, buddy?" Dean asks as he takes the DVD box into his hands and squats down in front of the television.

            "Maybe I should go. I'm not supposed to be close to humans anyway."

            "Cas, hey, you're not going anywhere," Dean says with his back to the angel on the couch. "Where do you wanna go? You need food and shelter like anybody else. You don't bother us."

            Castiel bites his lip. "I have nothing to offer in return."

            "You could help Sammy around the household since I'm not doing that," Dean chuckles and lets himself fall down on the couch next to Castiel, his arm on the back of the couch and the remote in his hand.

            "That's... that's not much."

            "So? Sam and I both have way more money than we need, my brother's a lawyer. We don't got families or anything, just stay. We like the company and you don't got it every day that an angel becomes your roommate."

            "That's very kind of you," Castiel says. "Thank you. For everything." He looks down at his hands. "I, I don't know what would I do if you didn't find me."

            "Well, you can thank Sammy for that," Dean shrugs. "He pushed me into working out after all."

            "Huh."

            "Speak of the devil," Dean says in Sam's direction when the younger brother comes back with two bowls of snacks for them.

            They sit down on the couch, Dean in between Castiel and  Sam and they launch the movie.

            Curious at first, Castiel seems to enjoy the movie a lot. They share their snacks and before they even get to the first half of the movie, both bowls are empty, most of which Castiel ate as fast as he could. He seems to enjoy his new-found taste.

            They refill the bowls after they've finished the first movie. So far the angel seems to enjoy the evening, whether it's because of the food, company or the movie itself.

            But as they get to the second one, Castiel slowly drifts away into slumber. Sam and Dean don't notice it at first, but when the angel begins to snore, they give each other amused looks.

            Once the angel is fully asleep, something happens. Dean glances at Sam questioningly as the air seems to shift and there's a ruffle. Before any of them moves, suddenly they're entirely covered in black feathers, bowls with snacks hitting the ground.

            It takes Sam and Dean all they have not to start laughing, instead they just snicker and try to get themselves out from under this blanket of wings. Without a word, Dean turns off the TV and grabs the snacks from the ground.

            Quietly, they decide to go to bed early this night. They've got more than enough experiences for one day.

            After they got Castiel into a more comfortable position and covered him with a blanket, they tell each other goodnight with a smile. It won't be easy with their new companion, but at least it won't be boring either.


End file.
